These are my musings and observations on my daily life, loves and the laughter that are all a part of my experience of living now in the shires of England.

Friday, 11 November 2011

Remembering ... my brother

© Marjorie H Morgan 2011

For M.G.R.
Remembering ... my brother

My brother was a soldier, he went to war.
He fought proudly for Queen and country.

My brother was a soldier.
His life was a war.

I remember
I used to pretend that
my brother was not a soldier
so I could sleep
at night.

Wars devastate
every day as
they bite and tear at hearts and
spit them out on barren ground.

War is hatred wrapped in metal.
War is a monster under the bed.
War is a thief ... of lives, dreams and a future.

I remember when my brother was a soldier.

The heavy
airmail letters bore whispers of hopes
as they thudded on the doormat.

The brief visits home held 
 unspoken dreams and fears distant
at the sharp point of the invisible bayonet -
all family eyes saw the pain
as he shone his
boots to remove the past.

There is no peace
when your brother is a soldier,
there is no peace
when familial familiarity shrivels
in the face of  unspoken horrors.

War diminishes lives.

Yet, I remember
that my brother was a soldier,
proud and strong,
loyal and true.

I remember
that my brother
always came back,
sometimes without his shadow ...
other brothers did not return.

Today, I remember
all the soldiers
who are my other brothers.
The brothers who are like moths
drawn to the flame of war
that scorches their souls,
that steals their eternal youth.

I remember.

© Marjorie H Morgan 2011 

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